A Passionate Magic Read online

  “Not tonight, my lady,” he said. “I have much to discuss with Sloan, and plans to make for gathering in our own harvest, here at Penruan.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” She had gone a little pale, but her low voice was steady. He would not expect it to be otherwise. While she was in public Emma would not show disappointment at his rejection.

  ”Yes,” he said, “it will be as I wish.” With that, he pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Calling to Sloan to join him, he left the great hall.

  “Our harvest?” Emma muttered. “I have not seen any fields under cultivation around Penruan.”

  She stood by the window in the lord’s chamber, gazing out at a sky streaked with clouds of purple and pale pink, and at a sea that was far more calm than her own heart. The air wafting in through the window was soft and mellow, just lightly touched with the tang of salt.

  “But there are fields, my lady,” said Hawise, who was folding a basket of clean underclothes and laying the garments into a chest. “I have been making friends with the cook, and she has described how Penruan lands extend to a sheltered valley set well away from the sea winds, and there Lord Dain’s villeins grow wheat and barley. Cook says there is a fine apple orchard, and several kinds of plum trees, too, because they are Dain’s favorite fruit. And, of course, a portion of all the crops grown in the fields around Trevanan come to the castle.”

  “How is it that you have been able to learn these facts, while no one will tell me anything about Dain’s holdings, no matter how often I ask?” Emma exclaimed.

  “Dain gave orders that you are to be given no information, not until after you have proven yourself trustworthy,” Hawise told her. “I guess he thought Lord Gavin was planning to follow you to Cornwall with a large army, and that you would find a way to send information to him or, perhaps, to open the gates of Penruan to him.”

  “I know Dain doesn’t trust me,” Emma said with a sigh. “It explains much.”

  “Including why he hasn’t insisted on consummating your marriage,” Hawise said. “He’s probably afraid to give you a child whom you might decide to take back to Wroxley and use against him.”

  “I have given him no cause to mistrust me.”

  “Well, it’s the feud, isn’t it? That, and Lady Richenda. From what I’ve heard since coming here, she preaches against Lord Gavin, and against your poor, dead grandfather, Lord Udo, as if she’s calling for a crusade against the Saracens.”

  “When is Lady Richenda expected to return home?” Emma asked.

  “From the way the cook talks, I’d say it will be another week or two,” Hawise answered. “Certainly not much longer. She has already been gone for a whole month, which Cook says is a long time for her. Lady Richenda likes to keep everyone and everything under her close control.”

  “Well, then,” Emma said, “I shall have to teach Dain to trust me, and then to love me, in just one week.”

  Emma was dressing for the ride to Trevanan when the bedchamber door was flung open with such force that it swung around on its hinges and crashed against the wall.

  In strode Dain. He was unarmored, but still, he presented an imposing sight. His dark blue tunic was snugged to his narrow waist by a wide leather belt from which hung his ever-present sword, and his long, muscular legs were thrust into brown leather boots. His brown cloak was tossed back over one shoulder, and the silver clasp that held it at his throat glinted wickedly, sending splinters of light onto his tight, angry face. He did not waste time in polite greetings.

  “I have been told that you have altered my private room,” he said, halting just inside the doorway. His mouth closed in a hard line as he looked around the chamber.

  “One would scarcely know it is your room,” Emma responded calmly, “since you have not entered it for weeks.”

  “Do you think to make me grow soft and weak with such luxury?” he demanded. He extended a hand, as if to feel the fabric of the new blue bed hangings, but pulled his hand back and rested it on his sword hilt instead.

  “I do not believe anything will ever make you soft, my lord.” Emma decided her best course was to attempt to reason with him. “My only concern was to make you more comfortable in your own room, and thereby make myself more comfortable, too. I am not used to living each day as if I were on campaign with King Henry’s troops.”

  “Are you complaining about the arrangements I have made for you?” Dain growled.

  “No, my lord. I am only saying that in this one, private chamber your life, and mine, need not be so harsh. When I first saw it, the room was barely furnished.” She moved closer, smiling at him. “Surely you know it is the custom for a bride to arrive at her new home with chests of linens, with silver plate, and with furniture, as well as her bride clothes, and to add these things to her husband’s belongings so that, together, they may enjoy all of their possessions.”

  “I do know it.” He was frowning at her. “You neglected to discuss with me the changes you wished to make before you made them.”

  “How could I?” she asked, keeping her voice sweet and a smile on her lips, so what she said would not sound like an accusation. “You have been absent from Penruan for much of the time since I arrived, and when you have been here, you’ve had far more important matters to think about than a new set of bed hangings, or a chair.”

  “Yes, a chair.” He went to it, to run his fingers along the smooth arms of it. “Did you think we had no chairs at Penruan?” His voice was remarkably soft for Dain, as if he, too, was trying to avoid the impression that he was making an accusation.

  “I was certain you owned as many chairs as you want,” she said. “This one is my gift to you, especially made for you. I sewed the cushions myself, and stuffed them with my own hands.” She did not tell him that Gavin owned the same kind of chair. She thought it best not to mention Gavin, not if she wanted Dain to accept the gift.

  “Did you make the bed hangings, too?” he asked. “I notice the wool is the same as that on the cushions.”

  ”Hawise helped me to sew the curtains. She is a fine needlewoman.”

  Dain moved to the bed and flipped the nearest curtain up to examine the underside. He tested the curtain lining with his fingertips, looked at the quilt and at the pillows covered in new linen. Then he looked into Emma’s eyes. One corner of his mouth quirked upward, but almost immediately straightened again, as if he was fighting the urge to return her smile.

  ”Thank you,” he said. “It was churlish of me to complain about what you’ve done, but I was surprised to hear of it.”

  Emma refrained from pointing out that if he had come to their bed, he could have seen for himself how she was altering the room, and not have had to hear of it from the servants.

  “I hope you are pleased,” was all she said.

  “You will be well sheltered from drafts when damp winter comes,” he said.

  Emma bit her lip, determined not to annoy him by telling him that he, too, ought to be sheltered within the new bed hangings, with her. The thought of sleeping in Dain’s arms made her cheeks burn. But it was clear that she held little interest for him.

  “Are you ready to ride?” he said. “It’s past time for us to leave for Trevanan.” He was out of the room and halfway down the stairs to the great hall before she could answer him.

  Trevanan was set in a protected fold of land where the cliffs broke off for half a mile or so. A river ran out to the sea along the north side of the village, just before the cliffs began again. Inland, the fields were tilled for barley and oats, for cabbage and root vegetables, but the chief food of the village and the source of its prosperity was fish.

  As they rode along the cliffs and down into the valley, Dain explained to Emma how schools of pilchard were caught in great sweeps of netting that extended from boat to boat. The fish not needed for food for the village were salted and packed in barrels, then carted to the deeper water port of Camelford, from where the barrels were sent by ship to Spain or Normandy.
/>   “I saw a few boats at sea yesterday,” Emma said, “but there are none today.”

  “They were after some other fish,” Dain said. “The pilchard don’t arrive until later in the summer, which is a good thing, for we need every man here on land to work at rebuilding the houses.”

  The entire village consisted of no more than two dozen houses spread along a rutted, gravelly road that branched off the cliff road and ran straight to the beach.

  “It’s the path used by the heavy fish carts,” Dain said when Emma commented on the deep ruts. “Agatha’s house is the little building you can see across the meadow, just next to the river. She prefers to live apart from the village proper.”

  The men-at-arms and servants who had come with Dain to help with the rebuilding stopped at the two houses that were being restored from the ground up, while Dain and Emma rode on to Agatha’s home. It was no more than a hut, sheltered within a stand of willow trees that were all badly stunted by the continuous wind from the sea.

  As Emma and Dain approached, a tiny woman came around the side of the house. Agatha’s face had been weathered by sun and wind, covered with fine lines, and her hair was thin and gray. But her silver-pale eyes were bright with intelligence and her voice and step were both firm.

  “So, this is your new lady,” Agatha said to Dain. She touched Emma’s cheek with a wrinkled hand, and where her fingers trailed, Emma’s skin grew warm.

  “Teach her what you can,” Dain said to Agatha. “Emma has some idea of being useful to Penruan. Lady Emma, I will send a man-at-arms to escort you home at day’s end. I will be staying here at Trevanan for several days.” With a hasty nod to the women, he remounted and rode away, heading for the work site.

  “How that boy has changed since he was younger,” Agatha said, looking after him.

  “Have you known Dain all his life?” Emma asked.

  “Aye. There was a time when Dain was often here at my cottage, despite the way his mother continually spews hatred against me into his ears, warning him to keep his distance. But Dain quietly defies his mother’s wishes. He allows me to live here in the village because I am expert at healing the ills and injuries of his men, and because I keep the villagers healthy.”

  With a hand on Emma’s arm, Agatha drew her around the little house and into the fenced herb garden at the back. The fence was woven of irregular branches, apparently picked up during Agatha’s walks in search of herbs, the branches bound together with vines. Within the confines of the fence herbs grew in wild abandon. At one corner, where the fence had almost collapsed, it was held up by a great, spreading rosebush. A few late roses bloomed pink on the untidy canes, but most of the canes bore large, bright red hips.

  “For jelly,” Emma said. “I love the taste of rose hip jelly. Do you dry and powder the hips for a hot drink in winter, as we do in Lincolnshire? Oh, there is lavender next to the rose, and there’s thyme, and rosemary and mint over there, in the shade.”

  “You do know the herbs,” Agatha said, nodding her approval. “Come, sit with me and tell me how you plan to circumvent Lady Richenda’s disapproval of any effort to minister to the earthly ailments of men and women.”

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” Emma said. She took a seat on the bench Agatha indicated, a black stone slab laid on two rocks and placed beneath an aged apple tree. All three pieces of the bench were obviously cut from the nearby cliffs and were worn smooth by years of use. “Agatha, how long have you lived in Trevanan?”

  “Since I was a little girl,” Agatha said, settling herself next to Emma. “My granny was the healer before me. At least, she called herself my granny, so no one would act spitefully toward me while I was a child and unable to defend myself. But I’m not so sure that’s what she was.

  “Sometimes, when an unwanted babe is born, if a young mother is afraid of what her parents will do to her or to her lover, or if she’s a servant at the castle and fears losing her place there, then she bears her child in secret and leaves it on the moor. I do think that’s where Granny found me, for I never recall her speaking of a child of her own who could have been my mother. My sire could have been Dain’s grandfather or one of his men-at-arms, or a fisherman from the village, or even one of the outlaws who will continue to live on the moor no matter how ferociously the lords of Penruan try to be rid of them.

  “Who my parents were doesn’t matter,” Agatha said. “What’s important is that Granny recognized me when she first saw me. She always told me she knew at once I would grow up to be the best healer in Cornwall. She knew me. Yes, she did. Just as I know you. I’ve been waiting for you to come, Emma. It’s past time.”

  “You recognized me as a fellow healer, even before Dain told you?” Emma said.

  “Aye, and more than a healer.” Agatha’s fingers rested on Emma’s hand like the delicate brush of a dry autumn leaf across her skin. “You are like me in more ways than one. You aren’t who people think you are. You aren’t even who you think you are.”

  “What do you mean?” Emma asked. For just a moment she was afraid, and wished she could pull her hand away from Agatha’s. But Agatha’s soft old fingers lay lightly on hers, the touch strong as steel manacles. In that gentle, unbreakable touch Emma recognized one who owned an inborn magic far stronger than her own.

  “Never mind,” Agatha said. “All will be revealed when the time is right. That’s the way it always is ... when the time is right. That’s what I tell the girl, too.”

  “What girl?” Emma asked, speaking softly because she understood that Agatha’s mind was wandering into pathways where she, Emma, could not follow. She didn’t want to disturb the old woman’s thoughts until Agatha had said all she meant to say.

  “Well, she’s not a girl anymore,” Agatha said. “Her time is coming, soon enough. And so will your time come. Now,” Agatha said briskly, removing her hand from Emma’s and thus freeing the younger woman from the spell that had held her, “come and I’ll show you all of the herb garden and then my workroom inside, and afterward we can talk about what’s troubling you and how to mend it.”

  An hour later Emma and Agatha were back in the herb garden, again sitting on the rock bench in the sunshine. Without quite knowing how it had come about, Emma had revealed to the older woman the circumstances of her marriage, including the fact that Dain had so far avoided the act of consummation.

  “He doesn’t trust me,” Emma concluded her account. She sipped from a cup containing Agatha’s herbal wine, which was marvelously cooling, and picked from a plate on the bench a food she had not encountered before. Agatha called it a pasty and claimed it was a commonplace treat in Cornwall. The baked half-round of crisp dough enfolded apples chopped with herbs and spices to make a savory filling.

  “The villagers use meat or fish for the filling,” Agatha said, “though I prefer vegetables or fruits. Either way, it’s a convenient food to take along when traveling, or for the fishermen when they go out to sea for a long day of work. Now, Emma, about that cave you mentioned. Did you see anyone there?”

  “No,” Emma answered. “Just the footprints I told you about, that suddenly stopped at the rock wall. I know of no magic that will allow a mortal body to pass through solid rock.” She paused, waiting to hear Agatha’s reaction to her carefully worded statement.

  “Well, you don’t know all there is to learn about magic, do you?” said Agatha. “Did you tell anyone else what you saw?”

  “I was going to tell Dain, but when I mentioned the cave he began to talk about Merlin and King Arthur, and about a lady in white who appears from time to time. He was so opposed to the very idea of magic that I said no more on the subject.”

  “That’s his mother’s doing. You haven’t told Dain about your magical abilities yet, have you?”

  “No. I feel I will have to gain his trust first. Then perhaps he will be able to understand that not all magic is evil.” Emma paused to take another bite of the pasty she held and to wash it down with some wine. “I have seen th
e lady in white twice; once on the moor and again on the cliff.”

  “Have you?” said Agatha, as if mysterious appearances and disappearances were nothing very surprising to her. “There is no need to fear the lady.”

  “I gathered as much from the comments made by a few other people who also have seen her from time to time. Dain admits to seeing her, but only from a distance. From the way he spoke I assumed he’d rather not discuss her.”

  “This is a land of legends and magic,” Agatha said. “No one ever learns the whole of it, not even after a lifetime of study and practice. There are still secrets to be revealed. But I shall know the greatest secret of all before long.”

  “What secret is that?” Emma asked.

  “Why, don’t you know?” Agatha smiled, her eyes silver bright and utterly without fear. “It’s the secret of what lies on the Other Side. I expect to learn it in another year or two, perhaps sooner.”

  Emma stared at her for a moment before realizing that Agatha was speaking of her own death. Emma saw no reason to protest against a knowledge deeper and wider than her own.

  “It will be a sad day for Trevanan,” Emma said, “and for those at Penruan who are injured or ill.”

  “Not while you are here to take my place,” Agatha said. “Years ago, I thought the girl would be the one, but she was banished. Wicked, wicked, to send her away like that!”

  “What girl?” Emma asked for the second time since meeting Agatha.

  “And so you were sent in her stead,” Agatha continued, as if Emma had not spoken, “and we must make certain you remain at Penruan, for there are those who would force you outside, too, and lock the gate behind you, just as was done after she was thrust out to face the world alone.”